Jeremy's father, Reginald Hawkins, stood in the grand hallway of their family estate, his face a mask of barely contained rage and disbelief. The news had come suddenly, carried on the breathless words of one of his trusted guards, but nothing had prepared him for what he was about to witness.
When the doors to the room opened and Jeremy was wheeled in, Reginald's breath caught in his throat. His son, his proud and ambitious heir, was unrecognizable. The once-handsome face that had been a symbol of the Hawkins family's future was now a grotesque, charred ruin. The burns covered the entire side of his face, the skin blackened and twisted, a cruel mockery of the young man Jeremy had once been.
Jeremy lay still, his eyes glazed over with pain and fear. He was unable to speak, his body trembling from the trauma he had endured. His breathing was shallow and ragged, each intake of air a reminder of the agony that had consumed him.
